


Wetwork

by merelypassingtime



Series: MorMor Ficlets [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crack, Ficlet, M/M, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 07:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelypassingtime/pseuds/merelypassingtime
Summary: Jim and Seb go to a water park causing Jim to reminisce about a sad incident in his past.





	Wetwork

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and more to my lovely beta reader no-reason-at-all, who gives me the confidence and strength to use semi-colons. ;)

Seb thinks Jim is joking when he tells him that they are going to take the train three hours outside of London to a water park. It isn’t until they are on the train, bags bulging with towels and swimming trunks, that Seb starts to consider that Jim might possibly be serious. 

Even then he is waiting for the trick, the last minute briefing on a clandestine meeting or the even less welcome direction for a splashy public assassination, all the way up until Jim emerges from the changing room, decked out in blue board shorts and— “Are those Crocs?!” Seb demands, looking down at Jim’s rubber-clad feet.

“Yes!” Jim answers brightly. “They were made to be water shoes. They float, and they’re soo comfortable!”

“They’re neon pink.”

“Yeah. I love pink. Cosmo says bright pink will make my eyes pop.”

Seb thinks that while that might be generally true, it is maybe less true of footwear. What he says is, “Your eyes don’t need any help popping. They are already criminally beautiful.”

Jim beams up at him, and his cheeks turn a touch pink as if trying to match his shoes. Seb knows he is going to have a battle ahead of him trying to keep all that pale skin from burning in the sun, but he also knows that there is nothing he wouldn't do to keep the sparkle alight in Jim’s eyes.

It is a surprisingly fun day, buoyed along by Jim’s enthusiasm. They make it onto all the slides at least once, even the three story high one called The Screamer, which Jim rides down without a sound but Seb does not. Jim then spends the rest of the day teasing Seb for his manly scream of terror until Seb threatens to force Jim to carry his own inner tubes if he doesn’t shut it. 

After a lunch of greasy concession food, they splash around in the tide pool, Jim taking great delight in rubbing up against Seb in nearly inappropriate ways until he gets bored and abandons Seb to go back down the Screamer while Seb waits to be be decent again, cursing his decision to wear such a tight suit.

They stay until the park closes for the evening, and it is a very tired consulting criminal and his foot-sore henchman who board the train back to London. Seb settles onto the hard plastic bench with a grateful sigh then casts an appraising look over at Jim. He can already tell that he and the sunscreen did not win; Jim’s growing red across the bridge of his nose and along the part in his fine hair. Later he knows there will be whining and aloe vera gel for that but for now there is nothing he can do. So instead he focuses on what he can help, fishing a bottle of water he paid an exorbitant price for at the park’s gift shop into Jim’s hands. “Drink up,” he insists. “You are dehydrated.”

Obediently, Jim twists open the bottle, sipping it absently and staring into the middle distance. Taking Jim’s unusual quietness for exhaustion, Seb leaves him be, idly scanning the other commuters for threats.

When Jim does speak, it is almost too softly for Seb to hear. He turns his head back to Jim. “Hmm? Sorry, what’d you say?”

With his eyes still unfocused, Jim starts again, “The last time I was at a water park was in primary school. It was a class trip with about thirty of us, and I was so excited. I’d never been to one before.” Jim sighs, and the small hitch in his breath as he does breaks Seb’s heart.

“I tried to lose the group as soon as we got there, but, of course, they found me. They— they pulled my swim trunks off and threw them in the trash. I had to run back to the changing room while everyone laughed and pointed. I spent the rest of the day sitting around in my clothes, just watching.”

Seb wraps an arm around shaking shoulders and pulls Jim in close to his side as Jim runs the back of one hand angrily across his face, wiping away silent tears. 

He looks up, his gaze going briefly hard. “I made them all pay for it years later, but it didn’t give me that day back.”

When Seb opens his mouth- to threaten the probably long dead boys or to offer comfort, he isn’t sure which- Jim presses a finger to his lips. He smiles sadly at the mix of murderous anger and empathetic sorrow that must be written all over Seb’s face. “Thank you,” he says gently. “Thank you for making today so wonderful.”

Seb leans down to brush a kiss against one wet cheek, whispering, “Of course. Anything for you, darling.”


End file.
